


Eaten Alive; Remade Whole

by art_deco_deity



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Fluff, POV Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Post BotW, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art_deco_deity/pseuds/art_deco_deity
Summary: In which Zelda tries to find a place in a world that no longer needs a princess, and Link turns out to be much different from who he used to be. They’ll pick up the pieces together. Maybe even find what they lost along the way.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 24





	Eaten Alive; Remade Whole

Sometimes, Zelda thinks she can still see the Calamity. If she’s not careful, Zelda sees wisps of black smoke encroaching on an open field, and other times it’s thin cracks of electricity skipping between long-dead machines. Her heartbeat will pick up, beating a vicious dance against her ribcage like a wild animal as her breath catches. Then Link will look back at her. He always looks back at her. But Zelda doesn’t know how to tell him that sometimes, like right now, when the day’s light is just barely beginning to fade, she swears the moon is colored red.

“Princess?” Link asks, eyebrows drawn inward in barely-there concern. “Are you alright?”

Zelda blinks. It still unnerves her- the way Link’s voice is so gravelly and deep for a man of such unassuming stature. This new voice, sounding of charred smoke and untamed wilderness, doesn’t seem to fit the Link she remembers; although, she supposes, the man in front of her really isn’t the same boy she remembers.

“I’m alright, Link. Just distracted.” Zelda tries not to let her feet drag. Tries not to let her knight in on how tired she is. “How far off are we from the stable?”

“A few hours more.” Link looks back at her again. He fixes Zelda with a studying look that makes the princess feel self-conscious. “Should we stop for the night here?”

“Oh no! Not on my account- I’m fine, truly- more than fine, actually. Let’s keep pushing on, I don’t wish to slow you down.”

Link just shrugs, before shuffling off the path and disappearing into a thick line of trees. There’s rustling, the sounds of crunching leaves under nimble feet, and then the forest erupts into a disjointed symphony of bokoblin shrieks, sheika slate bombs, and panicking birds. Zelda’s stunned. She nearly always is when it comes to him, and when Link comes bounding through the trees a moment later, hardly breaking a sweat, Zelda feels even more faint. The knight’s indomitable efficiency is incredible, and she thinks it would scare her if Link didn’t use it only for their combined benefit.

“It’s safe now.” Link shrugs once more. “This way.”

“You didn’t have to stop, Link. While appreciated, I promise you I would’ve been alright.”

“I’m exhausted.” Is all Link says, mouth pulling up into one of his rare smiles. But his steps don’t falter. Zelda doesn’t think he’s tired at all.

“W-well. Alright then.”

Link leads them through the tree line, across a tiny stream, and into another clearing a few feet ahead, where a giant skull-shaped structure lies in the center surrounded by dead trees. Zelda follows the knight, stepping through the mouth of the skull, and dubiously eyes the few untouched barrels of explosives leaning against its dilapidated back wall. There are small bones that crunch under her feet as she walks further inward, and Zelda thinks she feels a little ill.

“Sorry, Princess. About the bones.” Link drops their bags near the crude cast-iron cauldron in the center of the room. He pushes a few barrels together to make makeshift benches on either side. “Bokoblin are cruel, but guardians and moblins stay away from their hideouts. We’ll be safe here.”

“It’s quite, alright. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You’re the one who held back Gannon for a century.”

Zelda smiles politely, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She knows he means well. That he intended for it to be a compliment; but compliments always read better when referring to something you chose, and she’d never choose the Calamity. Nor the many mistakes she made in vanquishing it the first time around. In Zelda’s eyes, her century was a necessity, not an accomplishment.

“Do you think you could teach me how to roast mushrooms, Link?” Zelda instead changes the subject, opting for avoidance instead of acknowledgement. “I’ve always wanted to try.”

“Sure. As long as you’re up for it.”

Link says a lot of things like that. “As long as you’re up for it” or “Only if you think you can handle it”. Zelda would be offended, but she thinks she gets it. They’ve got a tender balance right now- being just two days out from Calamity’s defeat. It’s still strange, being in each other’s presence after so long apart, as well as being the only two people living in a time outside of their own. They’re both too tentative, afraid of pushing too far and having no one left. At least, that’s the case for Zelda. But she sees people stop Link on the roads every day. They’ll smile and wave, come closer and strike up a conversation that Link is just as eager to continue. It’s a far cry from the boy she loved, and the man he’s grown to be feels unfamiliar. Not bad. Not at all. Just _unfamiliar_.

“It’s pretty easy, just don’t stab yourself with a skewer.” He takes a seat on the barrel next to her, shoves a scarred finger in her face with a laugh. “See the mark? I stabbed myself so bad I had to give myself stitches!”

Link just laughs again, knocking his shoulders into hers. Zelda feels horrified. This is just another story among the _many_ he’s told her during the last few days, but they never seem to end happily. At least not her version of happy. Link, on the other hand, seems to think that bodily injury is not only a cause for great celebration, but also a source of great comedy. She doesn’t agree. Zelda thinks that maybe this Link is a little wilder than she could’ve ever anticipated.

“How long do you roast it for?” Zelda asks after she’s carefully skewered a few hylian shrooms onto her wooden rod. She looks over, sees Link’s got an entire slab of bloody raw meat stabbed on his, and feels ill all over again.

“However long you want.” Link sets his skewer down next to him, leaning forward to kick the cauldron off to the side with his foot. There are a few dry logs under it, and he grabs a match from the small bag on his side. “Don’t burn the food though. Fire doesn’t taste good.”

“Link? Y-you’ve tasted _fire_?”

“Not intentionally, no. But get blown up by bokoblins enough times and you just sort of figure it out.”

Zelda’s not sure if it’s the exhaustion sinking in, or the dry way he says it but she nearly snorts. The sound comes out muffled, and edges its way into a laugh before long, shaking her bony shoulders into Link’s. He just looks over; smiles wide like he’s won something and lights the pile of logs up with his match.

Zelda recovers and they sit in silence as they cook. She wants him to start talking again. To start telling stories and jokes she doesn’t think are funny or doesn’t understand. Anything to stop the sound of her mind as it spins and spins and spins. It is too quiet and the fire’s casting a pink shadow on the wall, and if she’s not careful the shadow grows spindly legs and glowing eyes and a cavernous mouth opens up and-

Her hand itches. The skin dry and cracked, faded of life where the triforce used to be. The flesh seemed to scar over, thin white lines running like ghostly stitches across the back of her palm. The sight makes her feel cold, even as she sits next to a roaring fire. Link’s company was almost enough. It almost distracted her from how the Goddess left her. How she thrust Zelda into a century long battle and took Zelda’s power the second she defeated Gannon. But the faded, now scarred over design brings her back. Reminds her that it's mocking her- like Hylia herself left it there as a reminder of Zelda's abandonment.

If she flexes her fingers the right way, tucks the heated end of the skewer right between her fingers, Zelda thinks she can still feel it. That raw power coursing through her veins, searing her flesh as it bursts out of her fingers. The Goddess’ power was intense, nearly bordering on painful, but Zelda would take it over the incomprehensible freezing she now feels in her bones; a century is a long time to burn up after all, long enough to forget that you can even feel the cold- but, now she is cold. Colder than she's ever been, even as she sits just inches away from an open flame.

Link has now moved to sit opposite to her, his eyes concealed by billowing black smoke as he roasts his own kabob. Sometimes Zelda thinks she can see him smirk a bit, like the slow death of the skewered meat and plant amuses him. Other times she explains it away as a trick of the fading light. Her Link never smiled and she’s not sure what to make of this one's continuing attempts at it.

Zelda casts her eyes back on her own skewer, pleasantly surprised to see just how quickly it’s turned golden brown. When she brings it up to her mouth, she doesn’t wince as it sears her tongue. She’s so very cold, cold enough to burn herself alive just to feel warm again.

“Any good?” Link asks suddenly, and when she looks across the fire, he’s all but inhaling his own meal. He’s talking through a mouthful of food, an errant hand wiping the excess grease from his chin. 

“Very good, actually. Warm.”

“You’re cold?” Link asks, and Zelda wants to take back her words. His eyebrows are drawn in once more and he’s setting his skewer down before she can protest. He turns around, back to her as he digs through one of their bags. He pulls out a woolen jacket decorated with brightly colored stripes. “Take this. It’s Snowquill armor from the Ritos. Not washed though. Sorry.”

Zelda only shakes her head, standing to take the clothing from his outstretched hand. He holds up the jacket as she nears, fluffing it slightly as she steps into it. When he puts his hands briefly on her shoulders for a moment, pats them as if proud of his work, Zelda feels warm.

“Alright now?” He asks simply, taking a seat on the other side of the fire once more.

“Yes.”

She picks her skewer back up and resumes eating. She is only half-way through hers when Link begins to make another one, and she’s just barely finished when Link begins tearing through a third. He eats with gusto and enthusiasm, and when he catches her looking, he holds his skewer with only his teeth, throwing both hands out into a haphazard thumbs-up. It makes her smile even as he drips grease onto his tunic.

She feels much warmer than before.

**Author's Note:**

> so i thought i was over link n zelda but turns out i want to write a whole multi-chapter fic about them. i just love them. their babIES. anyway hope u enjoyed, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated, a I'll post the second part soon!


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